


Mushroom Punches III: Truffle is my Middle Name

by CinnamonQuartz



Series: Mushroom Punches [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Oral Sex, Romance, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24044314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonQuartz/pseuds/CinnamonQuartz
Summary: Friends? Louder than ever. Job? Possibly gone. Cream cheese? Still her favorite. Her boyfriend? ... possibly her fiancé unless she keeps acting like a dud.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Series: Mushroom Punches [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734322
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Mushroom Punches III: Truffle is my Middle Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [checkered_roses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkered_roses/gifts).



Screeching to a halt outside her office work space, Pansy Parkinson waited by the door, clutching a coffee bigger than her head, a bagel with more cream cheese than necessary, and a sudden realization that her presentation was due. _Today_.

Her boss, Lloyd Greenaway, was speaking to the big wigs. In her office. About said presentation. And she could hear them. Damn. Double damn.

Lloyd was MORE than aware that she was always late on Mondays. ALWAYS.

Fuck it, have a triple damn too. How could she have forgotten? Oh yeah, because she was slammed this whole weekend trying to get the townhouse—that she now owned—up to code. Otherwise she would be fined by the city for outdated maintenance. Somehow the old landlord got away without updating the things that needed updated and she hadn't a faintest clue how he did so. Or how he ignored the hounding HOA—that's the Home Owners Association—lady's constant nagging and inquiries.

So instead of double checking the major presentation on her new potion, made with Bitterroot Oil, Emoritas, and a low level of electricity, her and her boyfriend—Neville—had been doing housework. Stupid, sweaty housework. She'd been so tired by the end of the weekend she fell into bed and completely forgot.

She forgot about her precious Emoritas and the potion she invented using them. Oh no.

Well, no better time to get fired like the present. Wiping cream cheese off her chin, Pansy marched into her office, head held up high and projecting as much false confidence as she could muster.

"Pansy!" Lloyd seemed downright cheery, which should be illegal that early in the morning. "Good morning."

"Morning, boss," she was faking confidence, so why not fake her cheer too. "Hello, hello."

She set her briefcase down, along with her breakfast, and turned to shake hands with her boss's boss. And his boss... and good lord. Tristan Rees was there too. The man who ran the entire company.

"Ms. Parkinson, lovely to finally meet you," he said, taking her hand. He held on a few seconds longer than she expected. "Your name has been popping up on my desk often this past year."

"Riiiiiight," she smiled big. All teeth. Her molars felt very exposed. "Well in my defense, I did not break the coffee maker in the cafeteria, I was just using it after it was already broken. Which obviously, yeah... I made it worse. I'm sorry!"

Heh. Heh. She was so toast. Giant Meteor. Anytime now.

"Oh Pansy, I'm sure he's referring to this discovery you made with your Emoritas," Lloyd said, attempting to come to her rescue and giving her a chiding glance.

Sweet Lloyd, her boss. The best boss in the world. She would miss him dearly.

"Yes, my Emoritas," she went to her work bench and reached for her lab coat, taking her time putting it over her business casual red blouse and dark slacks.

The red was a deep color, Neville's favorite.

OH! Nev! The man of her dreams. The shy but delicious Spore Specialist-working on his Mycology degree-feed her cake straight from the box-boyfriend she'd been dating for over two years. The man who could cook as good as he could... yeah you get the point.

"Which," she held up a finger. "Neville is keeping for me downstairs. If you would indulge me for just a few minutes, let me run and grab the samples I had him pick out for my... presentation."

The bosses all checked their watches at the same time. Of course they were busy. Was her eye twitching? Lloyd leaned in, asking through clenched teeth, "You don't have them prepared already, Pans?"

She laughed nervously, leaning towards him and matching his weird, toothy smile."Bad weekend, Lloyd. Go ahead and plan the funeral," she whispered. Famous last words.

Then she calmly left the office. The moment she hit the hallway she tore off for the stairs, her white lab coat flowing behind her, not trusting the elevator to be quick enough. She sprinted down two flights of stairs, her muffin top bouncing the entire time, and burst into the basement, running right into her old boss.

"OUT OF THE WAY DEWEY!"

"MS. PARKINSON!" he shouted at her, as if he had the authority. Too bad she couldn't stick around to give him hell for the fun of it. She rushed all the way to the corner office, the place she worked at for nearly 5 years before she moved upstairs, and busted through the door.

Scaring the living daylights out of Neville.

"NEV. HELP."

"WHAT?!" he jumped up, clearly on alert. His wand came to his hand as he looked around for danger.

"PRESEN-TATION!" she panted. "TODAY. FORGOT. BOSSES. ALL THERE. HELP."

"Oh no, oh no," he slowly lowered his wand, figuring out there was no danger, other than for her professional soul. "What do you need?!"

"EMORITAS. AT LEAST. TWO!" She gasped, clutching at her chest with one hand and holding up 3 fingers with the other. Was she having a heart attack? Or had she been eating too many tacos lately? It could be either.

Or both.

"Calm down," he told her, immediately rushing over to the corner. "I have some. Catch your breath."

"Can't. Too much. Chips and salsa." She leaned against the door frame, feeling a giant hitch in her side. And oh yeah, all the panic.

So much panic.

"Who all is there?"

"All of them. My boss. His boss. That guy's boss... and Mr. Rees!"

He made comforting sounds as he used his wand to gently cut away three, perfectly healthy, red capped mushrooms. "You know Trist is a friend of mine. He's a very understanding man."

"Yeah? And who am I? To keep them all waiting?" She took the Emoritas from him very carefully, not wanting to damage them in her rush. "What am I—"

He leaned in and kissed her. To shut her up. But also... her breath caught for a completely different reason other than her haste. Like her, he'd been in a rush this morning. Because like her, he'd been working his ass off all weekend to get that townhouse ready for inspection so she could continue to rent it out to her friends and ex-roommates, Daphne and Tracey.

So he hadn't bothered to shave and the attractive stubble bit into her chin as he kissed her with all the soft tenderness of a man in love. The varying sensations along with the fact that she very much loved him back took her from the basement and up into the clouds.

Leaning back, dazed and licking her lips. "Um..."

He held her shoulders, giving her a smile that she felt bone deep. "You got this. Deep breaths and don't run back. Arrive presentable."

Great advice. Even better kiss.

"Right," she nodded, her sense of urgency returning. But this time, she was ready. "Have I told you today I fucking love you?"

"Nope, tell me later," he spun her towards the door and gave her a push on her rump. "Good luck."

She was so happy she even smiled at Dewey on her way back to her office.

She was so happy she was smiling when she re-entered the office, arms full of healthy Emoritas mushrooms grown by Neville. "Thanks for waiting, gentlemen," she told the many bosses. "How would you like a live demonstration of my new potion?"

.

A late night dinner turned into drinks and dessert back at the townhouse, where Daphne sat next to Neville, plucking his eyebrows with a pair of tweezers as Tracey lay her head on his thigh, reading a magazine. Her dark hair spread out over Neville's jeans as he massaged the back of her neck.

Someone else might be jealous of their boyfriend being intertwined with two other ladies in such a way, but Neville treated Pansy's friends like the annoying and nosy sisters they were.

Pansy returned from the kitchen with an entire box of cookies and a big bottle of wine. She petted Wilbert, the taxidermy stuffed pig head that was mounted on the wall half way between Daphne's room and the kitchen for a full minute. "Good Willy, thank you Willy. How the hell did I pull that off? I literally need someone to tell me, because I don't know. It's like I left my body and floated up in the air and went into the clouds. From my fluffy perch I watched my body make the potion in record speed, explaining the process as I did, and I managed to make them all laugh. Not once. But twice."

She just had to... dance. Yes. She stopped by the couch and dropped it. "Fuck yes. I did it. I did it! Yeahhh!"

Maybe she won't get fired for wasting their time. Maybe she managed to pull it off. God she hoped so.

"Oh my, don't ever do that again, I'm not nearly drunk enough to tolerate it," Tracey said in a dead voice, flipping her magazine page.

"I can't help it, also get away from my boyfriend, skanks, damn." She shoved Tracey aside just enough to wedge herself between her and Neville.

Who started rubbing her neck instead and turned to her with a sad puppy face, his left eyebrow slightly red and looking groomed and more smooth than its counterpart. "Please tell Daphne to spare me."

Pansy looked to her other ex-roommate. "Don't make them too thin, it freaks me out," she said, speaking of his eyebrows. "And also, how did my boyfriend become _your_ boyfriend as well?"

"He's secretly in love with me, has been the entire time," Daphne said, getting even closer to Nev. "He lets me do whatever I want to him, don't you baby?"

"Uhm..." Neville put his arm around Pansy. "Yes mistress?"

"Ha!" Tracey positioned her head on Pansy's thigh after pouring herself a glass of wine and stealing a cookie. "He's also the only man who has ever put up with all three of us for any prolonged amount of time. Very impressive."

"Not sure why," Pansy said, sticking two cookies in her mouth at a time. "We're so-oo-oo pleasant. Right Nev?"

"Yep—ouch—I'm having a great time, love. Who needs eyebrows?"

"Ewww no pet names. New house rule," Daphne continued her plucking. Poor Nev.

"Um, pardon me, but I own this house last I checked and with my new ability to literally pull out a major presentation from my ass, only my rules apply. I am your ruler. Bow to my greatness." Pansy sipped from her wine and felt good as hell. Damn she felt good.

"Hard to take you seriously when your mouth is full of Oreos, Pans," Daphne hummed happily.

"Your thigh is extra squishy, people in domestic relationships often gain a little weight when they move in together," Tracey commented, nuzzling in. "Super comfy."

"I hate you all," Pansy leaned into Neville and fed him a cookie. "Except for you."

"I'm on the fence myself," he didn't miss a beat.

Rude.

"The exception is that I extra hate you." Pansy felt perfectly comfortably laying against Neville's shoulder, his arm around her waist. "I mean, you totally didn't save my rear end today. Definitely not. Nope. Really sick of how un-supportive you are."

"Not the only thing I want to do to your rear end," he smiled. All mirthful eyes and sexy implications. God, she loved when he smiled.

"Can you two stop flirting in front of us?" Tracey said, pausing her reading just long enough to glare at Pansy. "We're single and lonely and your happiness makes us jealous and bitchy."

"This isn't flirting," Neville told her.

"Yeah, we don't flirt anymore. We go straight to the foreplay."

"Aww," Daphne faux pouted, making her lips seem extra big. "I love a man who knows what he wants."

"A tweezer-wielding, tall blonde with whip cream hidden in her night stand?" Nev said, winking at Daphne as he did. Who grinned wickedly at his playfulness and started in on his other eyebrow.

"Ex-cuuuuse me," Pansy pretended to be offended, putting a hand over her heart.

"How do you know about the whip cream sir?" Tracey asked with a raised eyebrow and a wagging finger. "Not everyone knows about that."

"Let's see," Nev thought about it. "Because she tells me and any male within a mile radius about that whip cream every time we see each other? Which is nearly every day? Oh yeah, also, Daphne and I are having an affair. Sorry."

"That's okay. Daphne and I are also having an affair," Pansy shrugged, reaching out to high-five Daph as she stared down Neville. She would not break first. Sarcasm was the cornerstone of her personality. It was every cornerstone of her personality.

Neville opened his mouth to reply, but ended up laughing instead, his dark eyes full of joy and his cheeks flushed with both wine and laughter. Ha. She won! But even better was Neville joking about an affair. As the first woman(Stupid Face Hannah Abbott-Formerly Macmillan) he ever loved cheated on him, it was something he was often sensitive about.

It felt like a victory to see him making a joke.

"You three are ridiculous," he said, making them laugh evilly. The Three Witches and their pet Neville. But Pansy knew he enjoyed being around her and her crazy friends. No matter how wildly insane they acted.

"Every day of the week," Pansy smiled, feeling satisfied. She turned her head and met Neville's eyes dead on. "Wanna go home and cheat on Daphne with me?"

"Yes. Distract them? I'll knick the whip cream."

"Is he Mr. Right, or what?" Daphne laughed, setting aside the tweezers and petting Neville's face affectionately.

"Yeah, middle name: Sized," Pansy pushed Daphne's hand away. "Shoo. Away with you, cow."

Daphne winked then cuddled into Neville's opposite side and wrapped her arms around his neck. And in the process pushing Pansy's face away. "Nevvy, do you have any cousins? Friends? Who aren't Gryffindors?"

"But you should date a Gryffindor, Daphne. They are the only ones brave enough for... your... hobbies..."

"You mean dumb enough," Tracey said, then laughed at her own joke.

"Ron is single," Neville shrugged.

" _Weasley_?" they all said together.

"No, no no," Daphne leaned back, looking a little green. "I watched that boy throw up slugs once."

Neville stood up and grabbed Pansy's hands as if to help pull her up to her feet. He fake groaned. "So-heavy-can't-lift," he panted, barely tugging.

"Ugh!" Pansy surged to her feet, throwing her entire body into his front. He wrapped her in a big hug. "You think that will deter my cheese puff addiction? Wrong."

"You are what you eat," he told her, attempting to poke at her sides and make her laugh. Grinning, he added, "A snack."

"Gross," Tracey jumped up, taking her magazine. "Can't stand it when you two get all food-flirty."

Then she marched into her bedroom without another word.

"I think it's adorrrrrrable," Daphne fluttered her eyelashes, collapsing on the couch. Her arms and legs flopped like she was overwhelmed, blonde hair falling over her face.

"What if I become a giant cheese puff and crush you to death?" Pansy asked, wiggling to get away from Neville's attempts to tickle her. He locked his arms around her waist, so she turned around until her back was pressed into his front, bending over slightly to get better leverage. It made her feel lighthearted even as she tried to get away.

And pushed her ass right into his hips.

"So, business as usual?" he laughed in her ear, fingers poking her sides in all the places he knew would make her giggle. She had to counter attack.

Sending her own fingers behind her, she went right for his weak spot: the side hip. It loosened his arms just enough for her to slip away, circle behind him, and jump on his back. He grabbed her thighs and lifted her up in a piggyback. "Gotcha," she whispered in his ear.

"Wow, I actually might be a little jealous right now," Daphne admitted. "Is this growth? Do I want more than casual sex? No, wait. It's the wine. I've had too much wine. Pansy! This is your fault! Ever since you got that job you've been buying the good wine!"

Neville made sure Pansy was secure on his back before he turned back around to Daphne. "Ron is a good guy, Daph. Give him a chance."

"Um. Slugs. Ew. No, thank you."

"Slugs yeah... in second year," he reminded her. "And he proudly brings that up... Often around other ladies and then he says it's evidence that he will literally eat anything... if you get what I mean..."

"Oh!" Pansy shouted in excitement, definitely sounding wined up. "Ohh! He means that he will go down—"

"She gets it!" Nev said, jousting her around.

Even Daphne jumped up. "That is weirdly attractive. I'm tempted. I'm drunk—but tempted. Hmm. Redheads."

"Next time we go out for dinner, I'll invite him," Neville promised. "Now... I have my own snack to eat."

"Cheese puffs?!" Pansy shouted excitedly.

.

Stumbling slightly, the two of them laughed like idiots as they chased each other to the front door of the cottage they lived in together. She had 2.5 glasses of wine over the course of the night. She was ready. Plus all the teasing, all the bickering. All the talk of … snacks.

And the fact that Neville was pretty much the love of her life.

If only she realized sooner that behind his shy, gloomy demeanor, was a sassy, hysterical, loving man who could cook?! She wouldn't have wasted so many years being mean to him. Now she spent all her time trying to make him smile.

He stood behind her, pulling her hair aside to kiss her neck as she tried to unlock the door. "Excuse me, sir," she said as goosebumps raced down her spine. "I'm trying to put my key in this hole and you're making it very hard."

"You don't say?" he whispered in her ear, right before he started nibbling on it.

Oh boy. Goosebumps. "You know..." she shivered under his attention. "I really hate when you do that..."

"You do?" he feigned concern as his hands rubbed up and down the front of her thighs before sliding upwards, underneath her work blouse and making skin on skin contact.

"Mmm the muffin top..." Did she sound breathy? She definitely sounded breathy. And also he could touch her muffin top anytime. The key wavered just over the keyhole.

"What this?" he squeezed her stomach gently, fingers digging in. "This is nothing. But this..."

One hand remained across her stomach, the other dragging leisurely around her hip to rest against her left butt cheek. "This is _substantial_."

"Are you calling me a fat-ass?" she whispered, looking at him over her shoulder. They were both flushed.

He squeezed that ass roughly. "Only if by fat you mean perfect."

He was pressing in behind her, until their bodies aligned. She fit perfectly against him. A signature Neville move. He loved when her back pressed into his front and he could wrap his arms around her. "What are you going to do to my perfect, fat ass then?" she shivered at the pressure.

His mouth was right by her ear when he said, "Probably spank it until you make that squeaky noise you always make."

His hand released from her stomach coming to palm over her own hand and taking control of the key. His mouth pressed into her neck as he forced the key into the keyhole with a slow, shoving movement that had her entire body standing at attention. Her belly tightening with anticipation and heat. A zing from the sensitive spot on her neck all the way down to between her legs."Oh fuck..."

She might have won their banter earlier. He definitely had her now.

It was always the shy ones. Always.

His hand turned toward the left, catching the lock and allowing them to push the door open. He made sure she kept her balance as they walked into the darkened foyer, gently closing the door behind them with his foot while he turned the deadbolt afterwards. Then he turned her around, bending down to wrap his arms around her waist. It signaled a change in their behavior, no longer content to sass and flirt with each other as he carried her up the stairs and towards their bedroom.

They wanted more.

The only light came from the string lights over the bed, a dim, soft glow that matched his languid kisses. He tasted like the red wine and cookies they had post-dinner—and like himself. Warm and male and sturdy. Hers. All hers.

She missed it completely when he laid her on the bed, going horizontal between one blink and the next. She was so caught up in his affections, so focused on returning his kiss, hands digging into his hair.

Complaining when he pulled away, he stood up at the edge of the bed and looked down at her with hooded eyes, chest rising and falling with the force of his breaths. He started doing that thing he did.

That thing she never noticed until one day she did... where he looked at her like she was precious to him.

Kneeling down, he started undressing her with great care. Slowly pulling the thick thread of her boot laces one notch at a time, pulling the black leather from her feet, removing her socks while brushing his thumbs over her ankles. His hands caressed over her slacks, up her legs and over her knees. Only Neville could make her feel sexy while wearing her work outfit.

He came to the fastened button at her waist and gave her a grin. He pulled it with steady hands, eyes never leaving hers. But it caught slightly, giving him trouble.

Making them giggle.

"Need help, Mr. Longbottom?" she breathed out, voice husky with desire and laughter all at once.

He kept tugging, bringing in his second hand and giving it his full attention. "No, I can do this..."

Which only made her laugh harder the more he pulled. "Should I get the lube?"

"Bloody... hell..." Neville stood up, reaching into his pocket for his wand and bringing it out with a frustrated huff. A spark of magic flew through the air, landing oh-so gently on her button and making it disappear into nothing.

"Excuse me, sir, I happen to like these work pants very much," she teased, sitting up and grabbing his wand playfully. She tossed it over her shoulder without a care.

"Tell it to someone who cares?" he said without heat, returning to his mission of getting her undressed. His fingers dug into her hips briefly before sliding underneath the fabric and tugging down slowly. Revealing red silk panties that wouldn't show a line under her slacks. He kept pulling, over her wiggling thighs, past her knees.

"Neville," she bit her lip. "You could have banished them completely... not just the button."

"And miss out on my favorite part?"

"What?" she laughed, grabbing her thigh on either side and rocking it back and forth. "Peeling the sausages out of their cases?"

"More like unwrapping a giant chocolate bar," he said with a final tug, freeing her legs for him to admire.

She bent one knee, her foot flat on the bed, to give him more to look at it, enjoying the captivated look coming over his face as he drank her in with his eyes. It took little effort to lift her fingers to the buttons of her shirt, undoing them as he watched and parting her shirt.

Oh yeah. She was meant to be teasing him. "Did you say... giant?" she asked, fingers brushing across the tops of her breasts.

Neville's mouth dropped open, his eyes blinking rapidly as he finally crawled onto the bed over top her. "Yep," his hands came out to spread her shirt even further apart, revealing more skin and a matching lace bra that plumped her breasts and made her skin seem extra creamy—at least according to Neville anyways. This set was a favorite of his. The reason she wore it so often. "Like one of those mega-chocolate bars from the vending machine on the ground floor..."

He meant at work and she didn't want him thinking about work just then. She wanted him focused on her and her alone. With that thought in mind, she raised her arms above her head, arching her back slightly, giving even more lift to her chest. "Megaaaaa?" she was reduced to one word sentences just by the hungry look on his face.

"You know," he continued, leaning down over her legs. He pushed his face into her inner thigh just above the knee that was bent, kissing skin and rubbing his stubble against her before he spoke again. "The ones I could just eat all up."

She sucked in a breath as he kept kissing down her inner thigh—slowly—heading straight for damp panties they both knew she bought for him and only him. The actions properly blitzing her brain. Making it nearly impossible to think straight. "... uhm... eat?"

He nodded, making 'mmhmm' sounds as he pressed wet kisses down her thigh. "I told you I had my own snack to eat."

His warm breath brushed across heated silk, making her shiver and dig her hands into the mattress. She peered down in time to catch his gaze as his head dipped between her legs. Where he kissed her intimately, molding the silk panties between his mouth and her sex.

It didn't matter how many times he did that—it always made her cry out in surprise. A strangled kind of shout that probably wasn't attractive in the least, but if she thought her brain was blitzed before, now it was pureed. Soup. A puddle of soup. Panting harder, her fingers pulled at the sheets as he pushed his face in deeper, kissing and sucking her through panties as his shoulders pressed into each of her thighs.

"Ta—take them off..." she managed to bite out, heart thumping up a frenzy as pleasure and heat flooded her body. She wanted those panties gone. She was never wearing panties again. She was burning every last one of them. Sweat broke out on the back of her thighs as she started trembling, her moans getting louder. "Nev, take them off NOW."

She wanted the feeling of his mouth against her, no barriers.

She felt him smile as he wrapped each arm around her thighs, fingers hurriedly pushing aside her panties before his tongue pressed directly against wet lips, sliding back and forth with steady rhythm that instantly shot her into the stars. She bent forward on a gasp, both hands grabbing the strands of his hair as he found her clit and sucked her until she started screaming.

A sweetly intense orgasm rocked her back and forth before she fell back into the bed, her fingers releasing his hair. Neville came up slightly, lying his head against her stomach and sucking in deep breaths.

"Thanks," she patted his shoulder, sighing happily. "That was great. I'll call you some time."

He started laughing, shaking the bed as he did, before he rolled up on his hands and knees, glaring at her playfully. Then he bent down and blew a hard raspberry right into her midriff. She should have seen it coming. Too bad she had the reflexes of a dead rock. Screaming and laughing at the same time, he pinned her down and kissed his way up her stomach and between her breasts, stopping only to admire her bra.

Her blouse was still on her arms, but spread out on either side of her torso. He got to her chest and smiled. "Looks like a cape."

"It's because I'm super," she grinned, sitting up to meet him in a kiss.

He pushed the intimate taste of herself into her mouth, shocking her into a moan, as the red blouse fell free from her arms. He braced on his knees, using both hands to unhook her bra. He pulled it free with an excited breath before grabbing both sides of her very damp panties and shoving them down her legs quickly.

"How do I always end up completely naked before you've taken anything off?" she complained.

"Because we always end up doing that," he reminded her. He lifted her hands back up to his hair. "And I'm going to go bald early in life if we keep it up."

"Aww, poor Neville Longbottom, getting laid all the time, what a tragedy," she mocked with faux sympathy, switching their positions. She pushed him until he sat back and she came into his lap. Running her fingers through his hair over and over, massaging into his scalp. "Poor Neville," she said between slow kisses.

He wrapped his arms around her middle and held her gently, fingers lazily rubbing up and down her bare back. "Poor me," he agreed, blinking slowly as she pushed downwards until she was rubbing against his erection. "Tell me that bit you were going to say earlier today."

"Hmm?" she continued kissing down his jaw as she worked the buttons of his own shirt. "It should be illegal for you to wear clothes. Then I wouldn't have to waste any time undressing you."

His breath caught when she got to his neck. "Then everyone would see me naked."

Oh. Right. She pulled back, pushing on his shoulders so he would release her and hopefully remove his shirt. The final button undone, she pushed aside both parts of his shirt to reveal a firm chest. "It should be illegal for everyone else to have eyes."

He laughed, shrugging out of the long sleeved shirt and undoing the button of his jeans. She helped remove those jeans, tugging them down eagerly until he laid back in only his dark gray briefs and brought her with him.

"Excuse me," she complained again. "I'm not finished."

"Me either," he mumbled in her ear, forcing her legs apart until they were on either side of his hips. Then he pushed his own underwear down, freeing his erection and making her shiver for the millionth time that night. She could feel the hard, fleshy organ between his own legs pushing against her stomach. She moved up until it pressed lower. He jerked his hands up, one sliding into her hair, the other coming to her hip. Then she started rocking herself against him, taking his lips in another slow kiss.

Neville liked slow, and she didn't mind slow so long as it was with him.

It went like that for a long while, until his cock was slick from her wetness and he was moaning into every kiss. "Please, Pansy," he breathed out, catching her eye.

She shifted forward as she rocked, until the wide head of his cock pressed against her entrance, parting her slowly until she reached between them to wrap her fingers around his cock tightly. Angling him into the right position before she slid down the full length with a shuddering breath.

He stretched her, despite his barrage of foreplay. Until she was panting and flushed. His fingers dug into her hip, forcing her to move on him. "Please," he repeated, and slurred slightly.

She realized then he'd had more to drink that night than he normally did. Moving quickly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her entire front to his, without breaking the rhythm and slide of his cock inside her. The new position had him hitting differently, deeper.

"Tell me what you need," she held on and kept moving.

"Say what you were going to say earlier," he demanded, eyes turning harder.

She couldn't think. She could only move. "About..." she gasped, their motions picking up speed.

"When you came to get Emoritas... at work." His words were a husky growl.

"I... Neville... oh god..."

His hands became harder on her hips, turning their rocking motion into her slamming down on his cock over and over again. Every time, pushing against her walls rough enough to make her gasp. Slamming against her sensitive spot and making her tremble. She might have been on top, but she was far from in control of their movements. And just when she didn't think she could take anymore, he moved his hand around to her left cheek, squeezing tight before he reared back and slapped her ass so hard she saw stars. Just once.

It was all it took.

She let out a high pitched, involuntary squeak that cascaded into a wrenching orgasm, falling forward into his arms and feeling the pulsing hotness of his own pleasure deep inside her.

"Holy fuck," she said, pressing her sweaty cheek into his sweaty shoulder.

"Pansy, please. Say it."

Oh. Uh. Brain please start working again. All she could think of was duh dur duh dur... but she did recall Emoritas... her running to the office. Oh. Right. "Have I told you today," she paused to gasp for air. He was still buried inside of her. "That I fucking love you, Neville Longbottom?"

She lifted her head up to smile at him, found him smiling right back. But she also caught an old, but familiar, look hidden behind that smile. Insecurity. Still panting for air, he asked, "Marry me?"

In a perfect world, she would have screamed 'YES' and kissed the hell out of him.

But she was Pansy Parkinson, and as usual, she said the absolute wrong thing.

A 'haha' that lingered awkwardly as she tried to catch her breath, until she realized what she did. "No. Wait. What?" she lifted up on her elbows to look down at him. "What did you say?"

"... no? But I thought..."

His smile faded away before her very eyes, replaced by hurt and confusion.

"Wait, Nev," she shook her head. "Are you serious right now?"

"You said," he swallowed, uncomfortably. "You told me you would say yes when I proposed."

"Uh..."

Fucking fuck fuck and fuck some more. She just Hannah Abbott'd him.

.

She didn't sleep a wink. Neville spent an absurd amount of time in the shower, with the door locked, and she didn't think it would do any good to get her wand and force her way in there. Only cause more harm. So she tried to get some sleep and failed miserably. He came to bed nearly two hours later, skin pink from the heat of his shower and he only said they would talk about it in the morning.

Then he went to sleep like a fucking psychopath.

While she fretted and tossed and turned uncomfortably. When the sun came up and their shared alarm clock went off, she watched him get up and take another shower, getting ready for work without saying anything.

She rushed through her own shower and pre-work routine, rushing downstairs to catch him at breakfast. Fearing he would leave without her. But instead she found a fresh cup of coffee waiting for her and oatmeal with fresh raspberries and blueberries on top.

An olive branch? Or a distraction? Or a statement on the multiple donuts she ate for breakfast last week?

She took her breakfast to the kitchen table and turned before she sat down. "Are you ready to talk?"

He didn't have his own breakfast, his own coffee. Which was not normal. He stood by the kitchen sink, slightly turned away in his work boots, sturdy slacks, and button up shirt that would be comfortable underneath their lab coats. "Let's talk after work. I don't want to be distracted today."

Then he left.

As if that right there wasn't going to distract her all damn day long.

Pansy sat down and her head immediately flopped into the hard wood of the table. For the first time in her life, she wasn't hungry.

.

She rushed to work and grabbed her coat as soon as she got to her office. And found a giant Scoop Owl waiting for her. It's sheer size was impressive, but the letter it held bore the damn HOA mark that made her want to scream. The past weekend had been a nonstop blitz to get the townhouse up to code, because she was an owner that didn't live on the property, it meant the entire place had to be up to code in order for her to legally rent it out.

Obviously.

Made sense.

What didn't make sense was why the damn thing wasn't already up to code? Dumb Cliff somehow got out of it when he was the owner and renting it out to her, Daphne, and Tracey. He certainly hadn't updated the HVAC system that was required since the property didn't have a fireplace. He certainly hadn't fixed the crack in the foundation that meant the kitchen floor slanted at an angle.

No, what he had done was charge the three of them a ridiculous amount of rent for a shitty townhouse and then let it go to ruin.

Fingers curling into a fist, Pansy reminded herself that the whole townhouse situation was one of many problems currently fucking up her life, and to not take it out on this gorgeous, massive owl. Instead, she dug into her desk drawer and pulled out a treat for the sweet thing that had flown down several floors to deliver the letter.

"Thank you," she said to it, feeding it the small treat.

It hoo'd happily before it took off, it's wingspan seriously impressive.

Tearing into the envelope, Pansy quickly read over the tiny, cursive handwriting. "What the fuck is wrong with the roof?!" she shouted, stomping her foot and throwing her lab coat on the floor. She had the inspector out! He said the roof was in good shape! Being a home owner was the biggest fucking headache she'd ever fucking fuck fuck-

Pansy threw the letter down and started stomping around, having to contain her rage lest she disturb her immaculate work area and the bundle of growing Emoritas that sat beside her cauldron, ready to be brewed. Had Neville put those there?

She let out a grunt of frustration and flopped down into her chair. Not feeling in any way satisfied by her fit. She didn't have time to mull it over either. Because then there was a knock at her office door, and her boss Lloyd walked in.

"Good morning, Pansy," he said, leaning against her main work desk, arms crossed.

He didn't look all that happy. Oh boy. It dawned on Pansy then that while she managed to give a pretty exceptional presentation by demonstrating her new potion, it had still been unplanned, last minute, and probably clumsy by professional standards.

And Lloyd had put his faith in her. "Let's talk," he said when she bent over quickly, grabbing her lab coat from the floor where it definitely didn't belong.

The two worst words to hear. Ugghh.

Pansy braced for the worst. They could easily fire her now, she patented the potion through the company, knowing she didn't have the ability to produce and sell the potion on her own. She would get better returns through The Conservatory than some other unknown company because she was already an employee.

But now she saw the flaw in her plan.

What was to stop them from cutting her out right then and there and taking all the profits for themselves? Was a year of her work about to be completely wasted?

She turned away, facing the wall, to put on and button up her coat. Then she slapped her own cheek twice, telling herself firmly: Don't Cry. She never used to cry when she didn't care about things.

"Alright," she turned to face him, eyes dry though she wanted to break down, and body physically and emotionally drained from her restless night. "Give it to me straight, Lloyd."

"You seem tired, Pans, where's your coffee?"

"Stomach is a little queasy this morning, to be honest," she said hesitantly. Why was he asking about her coffee?

"It's weird to see you without it," Lloyd said neutrally. Then he held out his hand... for a shake.

Oh Fuck. Capital F.

She took it, even though she'd rather a giant fucking meteor come down and destroy her where she stood. "Can you at least write me a letter of recommendation, Lloyd?"

"Whatever would I do that for?" he asked, suddenly surprised.

"You don't look happy, you're shaking my hand, I fuc- _flubbed_ up that presentation yesterday, it doesn't take a genius to know what's going on here, Lloyd."

And her exhaustion made her break her professional stance and flop back down. Literally dead weighting her entire body in the chair. She knew all those cheese puffs would come back to haunt her.

The damn thing broke.

Shattered beneath her giant cheese-puff ass. Which made her keep on falling backwards, until her head connected with the hard floor. She definitely made an unattractive sound of pain, hand coming to the back of her head as she attempted to sit up... and failed. No core strength meant she flopped around like a worm. Her fingers came away with blood.

Not a lot.

Just a few drops.

She wasn't usually bothered by the sight of the red stuff... but for some reason, those tiny drops sent her crashing to the floor. Passed out.

Pansy woke up a few minutes later, Lloyd standing over her as Tristan Rees knelt beside her, his wand out, and the ache fading from the back of her head. Oh no. Not the big, big boss. Two days in a row. And she was sprawled out across the floor like an idiot... right after Lloyd was going to fire her.

"Ms. Parkinson, welcome back," Mr. Rees said pleasantly. Bastard. Enjoy all the money her potion was going to make!

She darted up, her head spinning. Embarrassed and ashamed and not understanding how everything could change so much so quickly.

"Whoa, carefully!" Lloyd held his hands out as if to catch her if she fell.

"We've just sent for Mr. Longbottom, how do you feel?" Mr. Rees asked.

They... they sent for Nev? Who had explicitly stated he didn't want to be distracted at work today after she rejected his proposal, something he was insanely insecure over because his ex had done just that at the Hogwarts Memoriam? God, this day was absolute SHIT. "No," she brushed her hands over her lab coat. "No, no, no."

Oh, her coat. She quickly undid the buttons, wanting nothing more than to be away. Far, far away. She shrugged out of it and held it out to Lloyd. Who took it with the strangest of looks. "I'll be back to collect my things, I just—I can't—I can't be here right now."

Then she ran out of the office. Probably for the last time.

She ran all the way upstairs, out of the building, and as far away as she could before she stopped. Panting. Hands on her knees. Usually she would blame the ever-growing muffin top, but even she couldn't deny the emotional distress she felt right then. Earlier she wanted nothing more than to talk it out with Neville... but now, after just getting fired and hurting herself in the middle of it...

Pansy stood up and looked around, realizing she'd run towards the busy side of town, with all the restaurants that were made popular around lunch time due to all the businesses nearby. She ducked into a nearby cafe known for croissant sandwiches and hid in the corner booth.

"Deep breaths," she told herself.

It's going to be fine! She'd survived worse before, she can certainly do it again. She could find a new job. Being a Spore Specialist was a severely unpopular career path. Okay. Yes. Her brain was being rational. She could work with that.

What was her next problem? Bills? Well the townhouse was paid off, despite the problems with the HOA. She had savings if something unexpected happened—plus extra revenue from Daphne and Tracey's rent payment.

Okay great! Rational was working. Deep breathing was working.

Someone came by and gave her a cup of coffee and that was working too!

What was her other problem?

Hannah Abbott formerly Macmillan sliding into the seat opposite her and shoving her stupid yet stunningly gorgeous goddess face into Pansy's line of sight. All made-up for the cameras that always followed her. Hair flowing down her back like a golden waterfall.

Being Rational sucked and she wasn't doing it.

"Oh just what I needed, a reason to vomit," Pansy pretended to gag. It wasn't hard. She hadn't slept a wink nor applied anything to cover the dark bags under her eyes. Why did Nev's ex always manage to come around when Pansy felt like a hot pile of garbage?

"I couldn't help but notice you aren't at work, Parkinson, I hope something dire hasn't befallen your career," Hannah said in a sickly-sweet voice. Something dire had in fact befallen Pansy but admitting it would make Hannah's day.

And Pansy would rather beat her with a mutant mushroom until her pretty face wasn't so pretty anymore than ever make her smile.

"Not that it's any of your business, Macmillan," Pansy purposely used Hannah's old married name to be a bitch. The witch divorced Ernie nearly exactly one year ago—and promptly tried to get back with Neville.

Over and over again.

If Hannah wasn't such a fucking bitch, she might admire the witch's giant brass balls.

"But my job requires a lot of skill and effort, and on occasion, it's nice to take a personal day," she lied through her teeth.

"No wonder you look so _haggard_ ," Hannah fake pouted. That kind of pout that made her lips look extra plump and sexy. Just like Daphne often did, except Daphne did it get boys to go _hubba hubba_ and Stupid Face did it get people to fawn all over her and distract them from her hideous insides.

Of course every man in the vicinity turned to look. Outside the cafe window a reporter was standing not so subtly, camera pointed at them. Just waiting to get a glance of the wonderful, successful, famous Hannah Abbott and what she might do next.

Bitch.

She'd gone out of her way to hurt Neville several times over the last year since her divorce. Mentioning not once, not twice, but on three different occasions that her and Neville were not only on good terms—a lie—but also hinting they might be getting back together. ALSO A LIE. Major lie!

The media ate it up. Pansy, the Spore Specialist-turned Potion brewer-black sheep who couldn't do a winged eyeliner to save her own life was not nearly pretty enough for the media to enjoy hounding.

Where Hannah made a damn career out of it.

Damn it, why couldn't she be photogenic? Why did every picture they snapped of her involve her eating?!

"Oh MY GOD YOU HAVE CHLAMYDIA, HANNAH? Pansy shouted. Loud enough for the entire restaurant and all the patrons to hear.

Hannah rolled her eyes. An action that she made look sexy. When Pansy did it, she looked like a demon possessing a human host. "God, you are so obnoxious."

"Every day of the week," Pansy copied that sickly-sweet smile from earlier.

"How does Neville put up with you?"

"Happily," Pansy lied again. Her and Neville's problems were exactly that. Hers and Neville's. No way she would let Hannah get even a whiff of their issues. "No divorce in our future."

"You have to be married first, to get a divorce," Hannah snapped back.

"And you have to get a man to tolerate you before you can get married," Pansy sneered. "So I guess that means you're out of luck."

"I've been proposed to twice," Hannah sneered right back. "How many times have you been proposed to?" With that Hannah glanced down at Pansy's empty ring finger on her left hand. "I can only assume that means things aren't as great between you and Neville as everyone likes to say. I mean, he and I were only together for a year before he proposed to me."

"Well, Macmillan, Neville and I are perfectly happy and secure in our relationship"—she hoped—"And when he does propose"—again, she hoped—"I'm going to say yes. You will never get Neville back. No matter how many times you say so in the papers."

Hannah laughed. "Maybe. But we all know you, Pansy. You're a classic fuck up, every-day-of-the-week," she said with a laughing smile. "I don't have to do anything. Just sit back and wait for you to make a mistake. I don't have to do anything to break you and Nevvy up, you'll do it for me."

Grinding her teeth, Pansy hated that Hannah was right. That she might have very well fucked up her and Neville's relationship just the night before. But even if her and Nev split up, she couldn't stand the thought of him going back to this cruel piece of garbage that went by the name Hannah Abbott.

"I mean this in the most sincere way possible, Macmillan," Pansy smiled, channeling her inner demon. "If you ever hurt Neville again, I'm going to punch you right in the fucking mouth. And you can absolutely quote me on that. Now. Smile for the camera."

.

Late that night, Pansy went to the townhouse and let herself in. She walked to the refrigerator like she still lived there and looked for something to eat as she hadn't had a damn thing all day.

"There she is, Trace! She's here!" Daphne called as she rushed into the kitchen. Pansy hit her in the stomach with the fridge door. "Oof—Pansy?"

"Was someone looking for me?" she asked dryly, pulling out leftover fried rice. Oh—and a Crab Rangoon. Thank God. She ate that first before her friends could complain.

GOD! She loved cream cheese! Every meal should include cream cheese.

"Several people," Daphne closed the door with a glare. "That Mrs. Benson from the HOA. And why is your hair... doing... that?" She waved her hand in front of Pansy's head. "You look like a possessed Owl."

"Yep," Pansy said, mouth full of fried happiness. "Got her letter. Roof needs to be replaced. And this is what happens when you sit against a cheap leather booth all day."

"Okay, well, your boss Lloyd dropped by, said you were hurt at work and left before you could be checked out," Daphne continued, crossing her arms meanly.

"Yep, did that too. Did he mention that I've been fired?" Pansy continued in her dry, uncaring tone.

"What?!" Daphne shouted. By the bar top, Tracey appeared, hand covering her mouth.

"Fired?"

"You can't be serious."

"But why? You just invented that potion!"

"You were here last night saying you aced that presentation?"

"I forgot about that presentation, and did a live demonstration of my potion instead. It worked out in the end, but I was severely under prepared, which was obvious to them, I know it was. Plus... I'm always late, I always cause trouble. Mr. Ree's even mentioned to me yesterday that my 'name kept popping up on his desk a lot lately' or something... I should have seen it coming."

Daphne seemed truly bummed for her. She kicked at the floor. "Well, what about Nev? He's been here 4 times looking for you, why didn't you tell him?"

Pansy set the rice down. There was a knock at the door. Tracey and Daphne looked between her and the door and back again.

She rolled her eyes. Fuck. "I don't even live here anymore."

"Then why are you eating our food?" Tracey stuck her tongue out. "Is it so horrible having all these people worried about you?"

"Mrs. Benson isn't worried about me," Pansy commented, walking over and opening the door.

To be immediately scooped up in a crushing hug by the tall, loud, wild Ron Weasley. "Coulda-had-this!" he shouted. "Where have you been?!"

He swung her around once before setting her down with too much force. "Ron! Stop my head hurts."

"We've been looking all over for you, Ketchup," he pushed her shoulder in a friendly way.

"Who is 'we'?" she asked, that cold Rangoon not happy about the tilt-a-swirl her stomach just went on.

"Well, me and Nev mostly. Harry too, he convinced Nev to go wait for you at home. Are you okay? Do you need help?"

Ah. That's why they all put up with Ron's wild habits that bordered on callousness. Because he was actually a huge sweetheart who cared deeply for his friends. Pansy decided then this wouldn't be the day that she ruined her and Neville's relationship, threatened Hannah Abbott-Macmillan in front of live cameras, AND got fired.

It would be the day she tried to do something good for her friend. She tugged Ron's hand, bringing him inside. "Hey Ron, you remember my best best bestestest friends? Tracey," she winked in Trace's direction.

"And... Daphne," she pulled him right in front of the blonde who had just the night before said she was tempted by the thought of Ron Weasley and his unusual eating habits.

"Uh, yeah, Pans, we all went to school together. My memory isn't that bad. Jeez."

Daphne, no longer under the influence of expensive wine, crossed her arms and glared at her. The woman certainly didn't need help getting a date. But Daph admitted to wanting something a little more than causal sex. So why not?

Pansy knew the perfect way to break the ice, even if Daphne was having none of it.

"Ron, let me ask you a question."

A question she already knew the answer to. She could be a lawyer.

"Sure?" he shrugged, looking around for hints as to why she was acting so damn crazy.

"Do you like whipped cream?"

Daphne's mouth dropped open but she snapped it shut too quick for anyone but Pansy to notice.

Then Ron answered. "Oh hell yeah, I put the stuff on everything."

"Well listen," Pansy sighed like she had a major problem. She did, but this one was totally fake. "Daphne totally had a date tonight, big dinner plans and everything, but she's been stood up!"

"Um..." Ron laughed. "What does that have to do with me... or whipped cream?"

"They were going to... Whip Cream World, a swanky downtown restaurant. Everything is made with... whipped cream. But it's closed, um, bad weather. So, I don't know, do you think you could keep my friend some company tonight? She means so much to me and she's so woeful, I can't even look at her."

Pansy brought a hand up to her eyes, "She's so-oo-oo sad."

"Oh my god," Daphne gasped. "She's so-oo-oo dramatic, ignore her Ron. And also I don't get stood up," she whispered to Pansy and glared.

"Hard to," Ron laughed. "Did you really get stood up? What kind of moron would stand you up?"

"Uh..." Daphne ended up smiling, looking Ron up and down. Guess Pansy made a great matchmaker! But how could she market that? "He's obviously not worth my time. But you might be, Weasley."

Tracey tugged Pansy back into the kitchen. "What have you done? You just broke one of the cardinal rules, Pans. Never set up one of YOUR friends with one of your boyfriend's friends!"

"So? Why?" Pansy shrugged. "What's wrong with that?"

"What if they break up? What if it's messy? Daph isn't exactly the dating type. Then things will be awkward between you and Nev. Duh."

Pansy crossed her arms. Did she spill the news? Tell her friends it wasn't bad enough she got fired, but that she seriously put her relationship with Nev at risk?

Maybe not until she talked to him first.

Or she could do what she normally did. Open her big damn mouth and make things all that much worse for herself. "Well, Trace, fortunately for us all, Nev and I are probably done. So you don't have to sit through any awkwardness on our part."

Oh God. Except even saying it out loud hurt her heart in ways she didn't realize was possible. Even in jest. Neville and her spent all their free time ribbing each other, sassing each other, being down right and unapologetically sarcastic. But the thought of not being together made her teeth ache.

Was that possible?

Did she have a cavity? No. She flossed regularly. At least... three times a week. She did not have a cavity, she was in pain. From love.

Maybe both.

Tracey's mouth dropped open. "What on earth are you talking about? You two left here basically groping each other last night."

"Hey!" Daphne slammed her hands on the bar top, causing both Pansy and Tracey to jump. "I know you're only doing this to distract us from the fact that you got fired-"

"Whoa?" Ron stepped into the space next to Daphne. "Fired? Who got fired?"

"Me," Pansy raised her hand and let her eyes drift to the background. "Giant Meteor, any day now. I'm waiting."

"Aww that sucks! Is that why you've been M.I.A. all day, Ketchup?"

"Yep, Miserable In Action," Pansy sighed, thinking about Hannah. And Lloyd. And that damn HOA letter.

"Well, Nev is super worried about you," Ron frowned at her. "You should go at least let him know you're fine, because he's a right mess."

Damn. If she told them what else was bothering her, they would definitely take Neville's side. She wouldn't get any support here. Even from her own friends. Daphne and Tracey loved Neville. And as she couldn't even answer her own questions right then, how on earth did she expect to answer theirs?

"You're right, I gotta go," she said, turning and leaving immediately before anything else was said or done... or eaten.

A kind of chill invaded her skin as she walked to the Apparation Point, the nights getting cooler lately. But this had nothing to do with her lack of coat and everything to do with that question encircling her mind over and over like it did all day long.

Why did she say no?

She contemplated it all the way home, Apparating and taking the path around back where she entered through the kitchen. She shut the door quietly and looked around. The only light came from over the stove. Everything looked clean and in its place, except for one tomato that sat out on the counter like it'd been forgotten at some point during the day.

She picked it up and was staring at it when Neville appeared in the door, eyes wide and worried. "Pansy? … Where've you been?"

He didn't sound accusatory, just worried. On the verge of tears even.

She held the tomato up, suddenly understanding the problem. "This is my brain," she explained, like... duh. Obviously.

… "What?"

Was further explaining necessary? She sat the tomato back on the counter and searched the utensil drawer for a... yes, perfect. She took the meat tenderizer out.

"This is my brain on sex with you," she said. Then she slammed the tenderizer on the tomato, flattening it into a mushy, tomato-y pancake as juice and tomato guts splattered all over the counter, all over the stove, all over the walls, and all over her.

She turned on her toe, holding up the dripping tenderizer and pointed it at him. "How can you ask me such a serious, life-changing question when my brain looks like this?"

Neville held his hands up. "Is this a ketchup thing? I don't understand!"

"This is not a ketchup thing, this is a tomato thing."

"... Ketchup is made with tomatoes!" he shouted, then shook his head. "That's not the point. _Where have you been?_ Lloyd said you hurt yourself at work! Why did you run away? Are you okay? Did you get healed?"

"What do you wanna talk about?" she dropped the tenderizer to the ground and crossed her hands. "Either last night or what happened at work, I can't talk about both right now."

Her lip trembled. Damn, Neville was the only boy who ever managed to make her cry. She was supposed to be made of tougher stuff than this. She bounced on her feet, trying to will the tears away.

"I want to talk about whatever's making you cry," he said, marching over and wrapping her in a hug. Big arms scooped her up, crushing her into his chest.

"I-told-you-I-can't-talk-about-both-right-now," she muttered into his chest.

"Uhm... what did you say?" he tilted her chin up to face him, seeming apologetic for not understanding her muffled words.

Usually she would give him shit for it, something like _'Oh my god why don't you -ever- listen to me'_. But sarcasm just felt cheap right then.

"Why didn't you want to talk this morning? I was ready to talk about it this morning," she told him instead of wiping her face on his shirt like a jerk.

"Because," he looked away. "Because I didn't want to make you break up with me right before work."

"Are you brain-damaged?" she stood up on her tip-toes, trying to look at his head. "Why would I break up with you?"

God, that insecurity was back. The bit she got a peek of the night before. She left the circle of his arms and grabbed the pancake'd tomato, forcing it into his hand. He shivered, "Uuggh, Pansy, why?"

Unable to resist, she interlaced their fingers, the tomato between their hands, squishing it unpleasantly. It oozed out, guts and seeds and juice. "Anytime you think I'm going to break up with you, I want you to remember this feeling."

She squeezed harder.

"It's gross," Neville groaned.

"Yeah," she snapped. "Gross, exactly what I think about you thinking that I'm gonna break up with you. _GROSS_ , Nev. Gross."

"Then why did you say no last night?" he shuddered out the question as if it took everything he had.

"Yeah, that's what we're talking about right? Right. I've been thinking about it all day."

"Do we have to keep holding the tomato?"

"Yes, until the conversation is over, capiche?"

"Ooo-kay," he agreed reluctantly.

"Point number one: You were drunk, I mean, I didn't realize it until way too late, but you had a lot to drink last night."

Neville nodded, eyes downcast in shame. "Yeah, that's true."

"Point number two: you were still in me," she squeezed. Twice. "Okay? Tomato is my usual, the tenderizer is your giant dong, _this is the result_."

Neville's eyes went wide at her vocabulary. "Pansy—"

"Do you think it's fair to ask me any questions in such a state? I can't answer a question with any amount of seriousness in my normal, ripe, non-squished tomato state, Nev!"

"It's not my fault!" he shouted, trying to pull his hand away.

"Nope! You let go, the conversation is OVER." She held tight, eyes wide and serious. Probably not as serious as she meant to. More manic. Like that owl Daphne mentioned. And forcing him to hold a mashed tomato between their hands while discussing their future.

"Okay, I'm not going to let go."

"Good. What's not your fault?"

"Harry and Ron told me to propose when it felt right," he gulped as he squeezed their hands together. Then his breath got all husky and sporadic. "And you were smiling and happy and beautiful and laying on me naked. Do you really think your brain is the only one that gets all … _like this?_ " he held up their hands, causing more hand-pureed tomato to ooze from between their palms and fall to the floor with a plop. "Do you really think you're the only one affected by our sex?"

"Yes," she admitted in a small voice, also realizing that was the first time he'd ever called her beautiful before. "Also, are you saying you've been planning on proposing?"

"Planning is a strong word," he got as quiet as she did. All the sudden she might as well be looking at a big, fat open wound.

"Argh!" she pushed his chest. "After I got fired today—"

"You got fired?"

"Not talking about that!" she pushed him again. "I ran off to that Cafe Kaffe, to think about what a perfect storm my life is in the last 24 hours, and ran into... Stupid Face."

"... Hannah?"

"Yeah that's what I said. I ran into Stupid Face and she's determined to have you. So now we're both feeling insecure because of her."

He glared at her. "Hannah is zero amounts of threat to our relationship, Pansy."

"Well, after today, and after holding this disgusting tomato for this long... which I don't know why you made us do that and we should definitely talk about it later, I figured out why I said no last night."

Blinking rapidly, Neville opened his mouth and shut it several times, as if trying to figure out what to say and coming up completely blank.

"Because," she explained, sparring him. "I feel like you proposed out of fear... and I would like to be proposed to—by you—out of love. Do you think you will propose again or... should I summon a giant meteor to put me out of my misery?"

"Not sure..." he answered honestly. "Maybe if I get more of a plan than tiramisu and getting on my knees and begging."

Her hand spasmed around the tomato, further turning it into mush. Did he say tiramisu? Her mouth suddenly watered. "My standards get dramatically lower when tiramisu is involved."

"I know, it's the only reliable part of my plan," he smiled, hesitantly. "I'm sorry. Sorry for making you feel like you couldn't come to me when you needed someone today."

"Oof—that's a great apology," she complained loudly. "How can I not accept it?"

"I don't know," he mocked. "I never know with you. We've been holding a squashed tomato in our hands for ten minutes."

"Yeah, Nev," she pretended to be angry with him. "That's super weird. Why did you make us do that?"

He pulled away, taking the final glob of remaining tomato and throwing it out in the backyard. "You are the most ridiculous woman I've ever met in my life."

"I take that as a high compliment. Also, I'm sorry too. There's something else."

Neville was brushing his hands off by the back door, half inside, half out, but she clearly heard his groan. "What? You're breeding dragons illegally in the attic?"

"Not yet..." she laughed. "No... yeah... uh... I have to replace the roof on the townhouse."

Neville leaned against the door frame and banged his head into the wood. _"I hate that fucking HOA!"_

.

She slept hard that night due to exhaustion, curled up on her side. And woke up with Neville's arms around her, his face pressed into her mid back. That, more than anything, assured her that they might just make it through her rejection and the following consequences. And though she hadn't had anything to eat the day before except for one cold Crab Rangoon, she didn't feel hungry in the slightest.

Because she had to put on her big-girl panties and go collect her personal things from the office.

Neville stirred when the alarm went off. "Morning," he mumbled, turning to shut the beep-beep-beep off and retaking his position, nuzzling her back. It felt normal. Better than normal, it felt right.

"Morning... hubby...?" she turned around to face him. "Just trying it out. Sounded kinda weird, didn't it?"

"Uh, yeah a little," he pulled her a little closer despite it, brushing her cheeks with his thumbs. "Try it again tomorrow?"

"I can do that," she nodded, suddenly out of breath. A single touch from him and she was a puddle. A breathless, cliché puddle. "You try."

Nodding, he gulped and said, "Good morning... _wife_."

That one definitely didn't feel so weird. It actually felt a little romantic, like a promise. And Neville, he was the kind of man who kept his word.

"I hate it," she lied, smiling so he would know better. "Absolutely wretched."

"I'll try again tomorrow," he grinned back. "Plans for today?"

She nodded. Right. Big-girl panties. "Go to the office, collect my things, not set anything on fire. Go yell at Mrs. Benson."

"I'll be late today," he told her. "Let's have a late dinner."

"It's a date," they bumped noses once to seal the agreement and that was all the affection she wanted.

"Weird that breakfast wasn't on that list at least twice."

"Not hungry," she sighed, and rolled away. And if she was going back to the office, then she was going in looking good, make-up done, and wearing her favorite blouse. The BIG heels.

She would not be caught looking like something dragged out of the river, especially if Stupid Face was about and looking for weaknesses.

"Not hungry?" he said, sounding seriously worried.

"Not hungry."

"No?"

"Nope."

"... I'm getting a Healer."

"Don't be dramatic!" she rushed into the bathroom to get ready.

"I learned it from you!" he shouted as the door closed. She didn't lock it, and halfway through her shower, the door cracked open. "Hey..."

"Yes, dear?" she responded, voice echoing.

"Are you upset because of work, the HOA, Hannah, or me?" he asked.

"All of the above? No, that's a lie," she said, holding her bath sponge. "Hannah wasn't pleasant, but that's not unusual. Neither is Mrs. Benson. I think it's mostly work. You know? I worked really hard on something... for once... and I'm not ready to be done with my emoritas."

.

Pansy arrived at her office hours later to find several workers gutting the entire room. Her Emoritas were sitting on a log, pushed to the side of the room against the wall. Next to a box that held her personal belongings. Packed up nice and neat. Her favorite thermos, a pack of Oreos, sunglasses. Oh! Her scarf she thought she lost last winter.

As she looked down at the pitiful box of stuff that used to sit on her desk, that very desk was being carted out in pieces. "Excuse me," she asked the nearest worker. "Where is this equipment going?"

"Not sure," he shrugged, carrying bits of the shelf the cauldrons used to sit on. "I just know they're going to tear down this wall over here and make this room into a bigger room."

That's fast. Really fast.

"Right, thanks," she mumbled, bending down to pick up her box and Emoritas. She took a lingering look, but the workers had been at it long enough it didn't seem like her brewing office anymore.

"Sure," he said pleasantly. "You're the big wig moving into the new room, right?"

Heh. Ouch. Oh god. The pain. Right in the heart. "Nope, not me," she winced out a smile. Kicked out and replaced? She tried to be angry—after leaving home earlier she went to yell at Mrs. Benson, but it sucked all her anger out. All she could conjure was this feeling like she was leaving something uncompleted. Like she'd been working toward something all year long and flubbed it at the last minute bad enough she'd have to start from scratch.

Starting from zero.

Pansy used to not care about anything. Caring sucked. Why did she change? Oh yeah, she found a job she was passionate about and a romantic partner worth a damn. Damn it! Life! Stop changing. She wanted to be heartless and callous and rude.

Stupid love.

Sullen and weak from not eating for two whole days, she made her way down the hall to Lloyd's corner office, purposely taking slow steps to delay the coming conversation. And since Mrs. Benson soul-sucked all the fury straight out of Pansy's brain like a leech, she had nothing left to yell at Lloyd with. Not that she would... she liked Lloyd too much.

He was a great boss, whether or not he continued to be her boss. Ugh...

The door was wide open and Lloyd was sitting at his desk surrounded by neat piles of paperwork. He had a quill behind his ear and one in his hand, as if he grabbed the extra one without thinking. And the pattern sewn into his lab coat had several more leaves than the one on her own, showing his tenure at The Conservatory.

Sweet Lloyd.

Taking a big breath, she conjured up the last whiffs of rage she had and slid into his office after a quick knock on the door. She marched, head high, and took the seat in front of him.

"Pansy!" he smiled. "I'm so glad to see you're doing okay—"

"Cut the crap, Lloyd," she slammed a hand on his desk, making them both jump. Whoa. Maybe too much rage. Simmer down, Parkinson. "I've busted my fat ass the last year on this new potion and it was on your recommendation that I patent it through the company. If you and Mr. Rees are going to fire me and cut me out then I need nothing less than a killer severance package and a damn good letter of recommendation before I leave, is that understood?"

"Uh..." Lloyd sat back, dropping his quill and mouth forming a perfect O.

"That sounds like the delightful Ms. Parkinson," Mr. Rees stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest. His word 'delightful' sounded anything but.

"I..." Pansy gulped. "I'm not afraid to yell at both of you until I get what I deserve. I'm not the same person Dewey hired 6 years ago—I'm not going to just sit back and take the abuse!"

"Exactly how hard did you hit your head yesterday, Pansy?" Lloyd asked, standing up to close the office door quickly.

"Not hard enough I don't know what I'm worth," she told them confidently, even though she just realized her worst nightmare.

She hadn't eaten in two days, two of her bosses had her enclosed in an office, while she had to justify her work to them. Yikes. If only she was naked. WAIT. NO. She did not want that! Christ.

She held her finger up to show them she meant business. "I'm serious, Lloyd. Severance and Letter of recommendation otherwise I'm going to raise hell and... and... Neville will definitely beat someone up."

Oh GOD. She sounded so professional up until then. Why couldn't she do anything right, just once?! Just five minutes she needed to keep it together.

Lloyd leaned against the front of his desk and gestured for her to sit. Which she did, far too quickly. Her Emoritas seemed to bounce on their log, smelling earthy in her lap. Mr. Rees took the chair beside her. Whoa boy. Her heart jumped right up into her throat.

"Pansy, I'm not doing either of those things," Lloyd informed her. "Even under threat of Mr. Longbottom."

"I'm willing to negotiate on the severance," Pansy said, unable to meet Lloyd's eyes. It would be nice, a severance package, but what she really needed was that letter. Because her reputation was, and had always been, dreadful at best. She ended up in the basement of this place because Dewey's standards were so low, he was the only one who would hire her.

"Pansy," Lloyd gave her his best shut-the-hell-up-and-listen look. "I'd rather discuss the terms of your... promotion. If that's okay with you?"

"Promotion?" Pansy shook her head, and definitely made an unattractive face. At least two of her chins were showing. For sure. "You said... hmmm..."

Well no one had used the word 'fired' yesterday.

"You looked really unhappy, Lloyd, you went to shake my hand...? I thought you were letting me go...?"

"I am unhappy!" Lloyd told her. "You're not going to be part of my team anymore. You'll have your own team. That's why they're expanding your office right now. That's what I came to talk to you about yesterday. Mr. Rees planned on joining me, but you bumped your head and ran out of here before we could have a proper talk."

Now Pansy was the one forming an O with her mouth. Not out of surprise—nope, it wasn't a surprise one bit that she managed to fuck. Everything. up. Again. And again.

"Now listen, don't speak, Pansy," Lloyd gave her another smile. "You had a tough day yesterday and there was clearly a miscommunication between us. So, it's Tuesday. The office remodel will be finished on Thursday. Come in and let me know what you're thinking. We'll have a proper chat then, how's that sound?"

Pansy nodded, frantically. Keeping her lips firmly shut.

"Always interesting, Ms. Parkinson. Every time I see your name on my desk, I know it's going to be a fun day." Mr. Rees smiled, stood up, and left without another word.

It was silent for half a minute. A minute. 2 minutes. Then Pansy said, "Did you plan that funeral yet, Lloyd?"

At least he laughed.

.

Neville said he would be late that night, so she went by the townhouse to let the girls know the fight with Mrs. Benson was a never ending feud. At least she lived to fight another day. And though she was starving, she definitely wanted to wait for that late dinner with Neville. Things tasted far better when he was feeding them to her.

Of course she didn't expect to walk into the audio surroundings of a porno.

Tracey sat on the kitchen counter, eating from a container of mixed fruit, two Lyrical Lapilli rocks stuck in her ear. Her head bobbed up and down to the tune of some song Pansy couldn't hear. It made sense the witch would shove those rocks into her ears because Daphne.

Daphne.

Daphne Fucking Greengrass.

The witch never remembered a Privacy Charm when she brought a boy home and years of living with her got Tracey and Pansy both used to the sounds of carnal sexual pleasure. She would emerge afterwards, glowing, gorgeous, and ready for more. The guy... not so much. One time they had to take the gym trainer she brought home to St. Mungo's because he passed out from dehydration and muscle fatigue.

But this was different.

She walked over to Tracey and poked her friend in the side. Who jumped and quickly removed her Lapilli rocks from the ears. "Hey, you look better."

"Uh yeah. Not fired. Should we do something about that?" she gestured in the direction of Daphne's door.

And the source of all the screaming.

"3 hours," Tracey said, looking manic. "No breaks. I enjoy a man with stamina, but 3 hours?! No thank you, I have things to do."

"Oh my god, my vagina is clenching shut right now," Pansy stared at the door in horror, listening to the screams and gasps for air of two people fucking like the world was going to end tomorrow. A bed squeaking rapidly.

"Sucks for Ron," she shrugged and hopped up on the counter next to Tracey, sneaking some of the witch's fruit.

"Uh, who do you think is in there?"

"Oh. My. God."

That was _Ron Weasley_ making Daphne scream like that? Spectacular. They listened for another 10 minutes before the screams got louder, glass broke, there was a manly grunt, and then finally the squeaking died down.

"It's so gross."

"And I'm so turned on."

"I'm going to be highly upset if both you and Daphne end up with long-term relationship guys," Tracey admitted to her. "That's way too much happiness to deal with."

"Christ, you're damaged, Trace," Pansy rolled her eyes.

"And you used to be damaged too, that's why we're best friends," Tracey ate around the honey dew.

"Used to be? Ha. Still am."

"Wanna talk about Nev?"

Pansy stole all the strawberries and Daphne's door opened. They both turned to congratulate Daphne but instead, their jaws dropped. Ron walked by, peering into their fruit cup, stole a giant piece of cantaloupe, and ate it right before them. He didn't even look winded.

"Heya ketchup," he pressed a kiss to her cheek which just felt dirty. "How are you holding up?"

"Uh," Pansy tried to find some evidence, some sign, some clue that he'd been engaged in sexual intercourse and found nothing. "Good. Not fired, all is well."

"Yay!" he turned to Tracey. "We need a nickname for you, Tracey."

"Try it and die, Weasley," she responded quickly. "It'll be slow. Bleeding out. Growing colder by the minute."

Ron stole another piece of fruit and backed away slowly. "Alright, alright. Maybe later. I'll cya around. Bye Ketchup."

"Bye Ronnie," Pansy waved and waited.

The moment they heard the tell tale sound of the door closing shut her and Tracey jumped up and rushed to Daphne's room. Banging on the door.

She tried the knob and found it unlocked. "Oh!"

Pushing through they stumbled in like idiots and found Daphne sprawled out on the canopy bed, nothing but a bright red feather scarf covering her goodies. "Daphne?"

"Are you..."

"Ladies..." Daphne drawled, voice cracking from overuse.

"Shh."

"She's talking!"

"Be quiet!"

"We're the ones making all the noise!"

Daphne sat up, blonde hair stuck up on one side and her bright pink lipstick smeared to the side. "I'm in love."

"WHAT?"

"Oh my god," Pansy grinned wildly.

"Already?!

"This is amazing."

"I'm in love," Daphne repeated. "With Ron Weasley's cock."

"Ew!"

"Ugh!"

"Can't stand either of you!" Tracey shouted.

"I've finally met my match," Daphne smiled wickedly. She fell back on the bed with an airy flop, smiling from cheek to cheek. "Trace! Get me some water. I'm positively parched."

"Get real, I'm going to get my magazines and the paper," Tracey responded, leaving the room with a hearty eye roll.

But Pansy was feeling the love. Many times Neville left her in a breathless, unmovable state, completely conked out after a rowdy round of sex. So she got Daphne a glass of water and left her to relish in her sexual haze.

"Are you ready to talk about Nev?" Tracey asked, coming back inside after hitting the mailbox.

"He proposed," Pansy informed her, snagging one of the several magazines Tracey subscribed too. But then her eye caught the paper.

"He did what?!" Tracey dropped everything, magazines sliding across the floor, eyes going wide with surprise.

But Pansy was unfolding the Daily Prophet. It was the evening edition. "Uhm. Trace?"

"What did you say? Is that why you two were fighting? Did you say no?!"

"Tracey... did I just die and suddenly go to hell... or is that Neville and Hannah Abbott on the front page having dinner together?" she held up the paper for Tracey to see.

"Uh... they aren't having dinner... they're _kissing_."

.

Pansy was a mature adult... now. If this had happened two years ago, she would have set Neville's house on fire. Turned his hair into antlers so he couldn't sleep comfortably. And cursed all ten of his little toes so they screamed every time he walked.

But she was older now and had learned from her past mistakes. Did she look at the photograph on the front page of the news paper 862 times? Absolutely. And it was around the 500 mark that she realized Hannah was the one who kissed Neville. It looped before she could see his reaction.

Which was definitely him pushing her away.

It had to be.

Because Hannah was not a threat to her relationship.

… Right?

Instead, she bought a slice of tiramisu cake from her and Nev's favorite bakery. It was 15 gold pieces per slice. But it was totally worth the money. The cake had 11 layers of cream, cake, chocolate, mocha-y flavor stuff and practically made her orgasm with one bite. She had every intention of sharing it with him after they talked and worked things out.

And she took it out into their backyard and sat on their favorite bench. The one that overlooked the magical mushroom garden Nev had planted the year he moved in. The nearby trees grew over the garden making a kind of cave and provided the perfect cover to help mushrooms grow. After the sun set, the Serpaine King mushrooms sporadically placed across the garden came to life with a faint blue glow that calmed her.

By the time Neville found her, she was totally relaxed. Not at all freaking out. He sat in the space next to her and wrapped an arm around her neck. "Hey," he smiled, pulling her closer. "How'd it go today?"

Oh god. What a scam. She was freaking out. He had a smidge of pink lipstick still on his face. Without thinking, she grabbed the tiramisu and opened the box.

"Ooo, that good?" he asked, super excited.

"Yep," then she rammed it into his face, cake splattering everywhere. "I'm not fired, I'm promoted. Which would be great, except this was in the paper!"

"Uh, that was fast... did you spend 15 gold to do that, Pans? Really?"

She stood up as he wiped cream and cake from his eyes and unfolded the front page of the Daily Prophet. She spent a lot of time this week being upset because she didn't stick around to ask questions. She wasn't going to make that mistake now.

"I told myself I would be mature and ask you what happened first, especially since I can tell she's the one initiating the kiss. But it really begs the question why were you with her anyways?"

"Because..." he wiped cake from his cheeks with a frustrated huff. "I'm tired of her harassing you and wanted to make it very clear she was to stop."

"And she liked that so much she kissed you," Pansy kicked the ground, pulling at her hair. She didn't care one bit it would make her hair stand on end. "I hate her. And I hate this week. And I kinda hate you a lot right now. Why would you take her out? All she wants is attention, Nev. Which you gave, even if you were telling her off."

She shook the paper at him and dropped it into his lap.

"Hannah is going to leave you alone now, I'd say that's worth a dinner and a peck on the lips," Nev argued, taking his wand out to finish cleaning off his face.

She grabbed it and tossed it in the grass.

"Pansy, c'mon," he brought his shirt up to wipe his face. There was a lot of cake.

"If you believe that then you're an idiot," she said.

"You're right," he said, voice sounding thick. He dropped his shirt, and forgot about the cake.

"I'm an idiot. I believed Hannah when she told me she loved and wanted to marry me. I believed you when you told me you loved me. I believed you when you said you wouldn't reject my proposal. AND—" he nearly shouted before she could interrupt. "I'll probably stick around even knowing you won't because that's how much I love you! That's how much of an idiot I am. And I had to explain that to Hannah. I had to sit down and tell her that I clearly didn't love her like I thought I did, because her rejection didn't kill me like yours did."

Pansy crossed her arms, trying to find the lie in his words or on his face and seeing only cake. "It's hard to take you seriously when you have cake all over your face like that."

"Cake that _you put there_!" he shouted, standing up. "You crazy witch!"

"Yeah, I was hoping you would forget that part. Okay? Just," she held her hands up in surrender. "Just stay there a sec. Will you?"

"You're not about to leave, are you?" he sounded like a beat up puppy.

"No, I'm not leaving, I'll be back in 2 minutes okay?"

"Okay," he conceded.

"I promise, Neville, I'm not leaving," she felt the need to reassure him one more time. Then she rushed up to the house and to the front, taking the stairs and running to the bedroom.

In her sock drawer, in a small tin box, she had exactly 3 things from her family. A silver acorn brooch her Grandmother left behind after her timely death. A polished moonstone that had apparently belonged to her mother, a woman Pansy never knew as both her parents died when she was young. And this. It had belonged to her father. And her greedy Granny hadn't been able to take it from Pansy because she wasn't a Parkinson and Pansy was.

Rushing, she was out of breath when she got back to the mushroom garden and Neville was sitting on the bench, using his wand to clean tiramisu from his face. He looked apprehensive at best.

Yikes. Okay. Now she understood how Neville felt the other night. This was tough! Oh God. Pansy hopped up and down on her feet and took a giant breath in.

Then got down on one knee right in front of Neville.

He rolled his eyes. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm being serious right now," she complained. Why wasn't he jumping for joy?!

"Get up," he reached out to tug on her elbow but she jerked away, nearly losing her balance.

"No, Neville," she huffed. "Be the idiot you are and do as I say."

He glared at her.

She glared at him.

It went on until he gave in and blinked. Sucker.

"Neville," she cleared her throat, realizing she hadn't the faintest clue as what to say. Okay… time to bullshit her way through this. "My parents died when I was little. I was 4 and I don't remember them much at all, and they divorced before they died so... My Grandmother hated my guts and I spent most of my life away at school. Which is my shabby excuse for my ludicrous behavior. Behavior that has clearly negatively affected you. Which is not fair because you are the only person who has ever made me feel wanted—Oh my god, this is so hard."

"I know!" Neville threw his hands up in the air. "Now you know why I have such a hard time with it."

"Shut up and let me finish."

"This is the worst proposal," he crossed his arms. "Ever."

"I can make it worse," she glared at him, hoping her eyes said _shut the hell up_. "Now... as I was saying. You make me feel wanted and... loved... and pretty much on the top of the world all the time. Even better, I feel like I can be myself around you. Myself, who is a class A fuck-up from head to toe and I can promise you that this will not be the last time I fuck up things between us, but I can promise that I don't want to fuck up anyone else's life besides... yours..."

She winced as if she ate something sour. That sour thing being the _worst_ proposal of all time. But somehow she managed to hold up her father's wedding band. "It was my father's, the only thing I have of his, and it's made of black volcanic rock which is super cool and I want you to have it. Will you... will you marry me?"

He stood up, looking down at her, face outlined with tiramisu. "Hold on a sec," and he started walking away.

Fuc-king hell. Now she was the puppy. "You're not leaving, are you?!"

"No!" he shouted, walking towards the house. "Hold on one damn second, crazy damn witch, never ever listens—"

His words cut off as soon as he entered the house. And Pansy was left, down on one knee, holding up a ring, feeling like she had one foot off a ledge. Waiting... and waiting... until he came back several minutes later still muttering under his breath.

"—ridiculous, unpredictable banshee—Pansy," he knelt down in front of her, on one knee. "I also did not know my parents, and my grandmother also hated my guts most of the time," he said, using her own words. "And that definitely contributed to the idea that I had about what kind of marriage and what kind of life I wanted."

He was way better at this than her. Her heart sped up to dangerous levels. It almost sounded like he meant she was what he wanted in life.

"With a woman who I want more than anything, who I love more than anything, who makes me laugh every single day," he continued, eyes growing ever softer. He held up whatever he went into the house for.

"This is my mother's," he told her, showing a blue-silver ring with a square red diamond in the setting. It had the heart of a sun. "I want you to have it."

"It's so colorful," Pansy blinked back tears. His mother's ring? Could she? "I just have one question."

He also seemed to be blinking back tears.

"Did you propose to Hannah with this?"

"No, she never saw this ring. Only you," he promised. "I still have that ring, if you want to see it. I swear."

"I believe you," she insisted. "I'm thinking you can turn that into a pair of earrings for me."

Wow he was totally done with her shit—and it made her grin. "Are you going to marry me or not?" he demanded.

"I asked you first," she shouted, shoving his shoulder.

"I asked you second," he shoved her opposite shoulder, way, way gentler than she had.

"Same time?"

"Same time."

.

Pansy woke up the next morning with a giant rock on her finger and it didn't feel weird. What felt weird was that she was alone in bed. Neville's side cold as if he hadn't been there for a few hours. Which made no sense because he said he was going to take PTO the next day to spend with her.

Her.

Not Stupid Face. Not his friends. Not his mushrooms. Her. Her and a new slice of tiramisu.

She got up, feeling lighter than she had all week, and went to the bathroom. Her hair was a damn mess as usual so she brushed it as she peed, yawning loudly and rubbing crusty stuff from the corner of her eye. The sunlight caught her ring and she paused to look at it.

What a craze those blue-silver wedding bands were in the 70's. Shimmering between blue and white. It was beautiful. But she loved that Neville gave her a red diamond. He loved her in red and she loved wearing it for him. Plus she was a hell-beast, a vicious demon roaming the earth, ready to bite at any second. Red and black were basically her colors.

She pretended to roar, but it turned into another yawn. Then she noticed one of Nev's slippers by the door. The left one. Weird... she was the messy one. Her side of the bedroom was a black hole of clothes, shoes, and candy bar wrappers. Not that many. Maybe like... she counted on her fingers. Probably at least 11.

After washing her hands, she searched the house and yard for her... fiance. She found no trace. Just that one missing slipper. Huh. Something was afoot. "Get it? 'Cause it's a slipper."

Forcing her fat ass into a pair of jeans—she had to do the crab walk to get them over her thighs—she rushed over to the townhouse to recruit Tracey and Daphne to search for Nev. And found him sprawled out on the couch.

"What the hell is this?" she shouted, kicking his foot.

He didn't budge. Was he dead? Oh, just her fucking luck that she gets engaged and then her fiance immediately dies under suspicious circumstances!

"Good morning, Pans," Tracey slid out of her bedroom, wearing a silk robe that she tied at the waist.

"Hey, Pansy," Daphne did the same from her room. They both came to stand behind the couch, looking down at Neville in unison. Like hungry vampires.

"Did... you two do this?" Pansy asked, pointing at her unresponsive boyfriend—WAIT NO Fiance!

"Did he kiss Hannah Abbott?" Tracey asked dryly.

Pansy nodded. "Yeah, but we talked it out last night. And... we're engaged," she held up her left hand. "See? All is well! Domestic bliss. I actually proposed to him first, don't let him lie."

"Oh, our bad."

"Whoops!"

"We didn't know."

"We thought he did you wrong."

"And we warned him about those bad manners."

"Warned him that we take action when it comes to our sister."

"You guys," Pansy felt so overwhelmed. With love and friendship. She knelt down and started shaking Neville. "Wake up, love. What did you do to him?"

He jerked awake, his eyes bloodshot red, letting out a low groan of pain. "Ow... ow... ow..." Favoring his right shoulder, he tried to sit up.

"Ladies," Pansy pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and found a large bandage covering the majority of his bicep.

"Ow... Pansy... they've killed me," he kept groaning. "I'm dead. I've died."

"They didn't kill you..." Pansy said, pulling the bandage off with one, swift pull. "Big baby."

"OW."

To reveal a large tattoo. Of her face, surrounded by a bouquet of mushrooms. _Galerina marginata_ , Autumn Skullcap. Poisonous, deadly, and beautiful. A ribbon said, _Pansy Forever_ just beneath her face.

"That... is the most ridiculous and amazing thing... I have ever seen," Pansy wiped a tear from her eye.

"Pansy," Neville gulped, panting in pain. "They kidnapped me. Middle of the night."

"Yeah..." Pansy felt horrible about it too. Even as awesome as her friends were. But it wasn't even the craziest thing her, Daphne, and Tracey had ever done! "I was here when I saw the paper, so they knew about Stupid Face. I'm sorry."

Daphne leaned down and put her lips right next to Neville's ear. "Did you like kissing Hannah Abbott, Nev?"

"I didn't kiss her," he grunted, wiggling up to a sit, groaning the entire time. "She kissed me, it was like a goodbye kiss. And I did not enjoy it."

"You don't have plans to kiss her again do you?" Tracey leaned down on the opposite ear.

"Of course not! Pansy!"

"Shoo, flies," she waved her hand at them. "And don't ever kidnap my fiance again."

They both grinned before slinking off to the kitchen to make coffee.

"Pansy!" Neville nodded to his bicep, which was red beneath all the clean, new ink. As she watched, the image of her face winked with some major attitude.

"And don't give him a tattoo!" she added and mouthed ' _Oh my god! That's awesome'_ when Neville wasn't looking. Except he did see it.

"PANSY!"

"Okay, I'm sorry, for real," she made a place for herself on the couch and guided his head down into her lap, running her fingers through his hair gently. Rubbing his neck. She leaned over so their noses were nearly touching. "Do you want me to retaliate? Because I can pop off real quick, if you want me to."

"No, I do not want you to 'pop off'," he winced. "Fuck. Is it permanent?"

"Ladies?" Pansy called out.

From behind them, in the kitchen, she heard Daphne giggle and Tracey called back, "Yep. So if he decides to take up with Abbott again, she'll have to look at your face every for the rest of her life."

"I'm not taking up with Hannah!" Neville shouted. Damn he sounded grumpy. Which was reasonable. "I'm marrying Pansy and this was completely unnecessary! I love you. I love when you try to put on one of my hoodies and your head gets caught in the arm sleeve. I love when you made that silly 'so-oo-oo' sound. I love that face you make when I bring home the good bagels from bakery—"

She leaned in and kissed him. "I love you too," she whispered against his lips.

"Wonderful," Tracey replied, returning to the couch with a cup of coffee for both her and Neville. "And now you know what will happen if you ever get caught kissing that wretch again."

Pansy sat up and took her coffee with a smile. "He won't," she insisted.

Then there was a knock at the door. Since Daphne was closest, and didn't care that she was in a skimpy bathrobe, she answered. "Oh, Pannnssy, it's for you."

"What? How? I don't live here!"

"Then why are you always around?" Tracey snapped.

"You kidnapped my fiance!" she pushed Neville's shoulder so she could get up, making him moan in pain. "Oh calm down."

Bouncing over to the door, Daphne holding it for her, Pansy opened it all the way to reveal Mrs. Benson. Whoa boy. Maybe she was about to pop off. The witch was 20 years older, two feet taller, and had that wealthy, pompous air about her that automatically made Pansy feel grubby. She brushed her hair today, that is an accomplishment Mrs. Benson was ruining with her fine grooming.

The witch certainly didn't seem to mind being yelled at and Pansy wasn't replacing the roof. It was fine. The inspector she hired said it was in excellent condition.

"Mrs. Benson," Pansy bit out through clenched teeth.

"Ms. Parkinson, we need to finish our conversation about your roof. It's hideous."

"No, we already finished that conversation. The roof is in tip-top shape. If Cliff didn't have to replace it, then I'm not. And I'm definitely-not-paying-your-stupid-HOA-fee. This used to be a disreputable neighborhood, stop trying to fix it!"

"You are completely unreasonable. It's too dark, you need to replace it."

… "TOO DARK? This isn't even about the condition of the roof? You want me to replace it because of the way it LOOKS?"

"Excuse me," Neville's voice startled Pansy as he stepped up behind her. "What's the problem here?"

"My word... Mr. Longbottom," Mrs. Benson put a hand over her heart as the mean look on her face disappeared altogether. "I apologize I didn't realize... well.. what are you doing here?"

"Ms. Parkinson has agreed to be my wife," he said, wrapping and arm around her shoulders and pulling her in. Ha! Neaner neaner Mrs. Benson. The witch's eyes went first to the totally rad tattoo on Neville's bicep and then to Pansy's ring finger.

_SUCK IT MRS. BENSON._

Neville continued in that calm, totally sensible manner of his. "May I ask how we can resolve this issue without further conflict? If it's a simple matter of aesthetics, I'm sure we can find a spell to lighten the color with replacing the entire structure."

"Of course," Mrs. Benson mumbled unattractively. "I would hate to cause a fuss."

"Whatever!" Pansy rolled her eyes. But Neville nudged her harshly. "I mean, of course. No fuss. We're ami-caple... amicable people..."

Mrs. Benson nodded reluctantly, seeming confused by Pansy's downright ridiculous behavior. "I'll be in touch."

She left, looking back for a second when she hit the sidewalk like she wasn't sure what happened. Neither did Pansy! They waited until the witch was gone before she turned to Neville. "If I had known being rational would work I would have done that in the first place."

"Yeah right!" Neville shouted, pulling her back inside. "This is the House of Unreasonablists. Your House God is a stuffed pig. Chaos rules here and no one is safe. My bodily autonomy is not safe."

"Do not take that tone when speaking of Wilbert!" Daphne gasped, sauntering up to Neville and wrapping him in a overly sexual hug. "Also, won't you make us some eggs? I have to get ready for work." She pouted, eyes growing round and shiny. "Pretty pretty pretty pleaseeee?"

Neville groaned as if in pain, resigned to patting Daphne's back. "If I marry you," he said slowly to Pansy, as if realizing the worst. "Then I'm basically marrying all three of you, aren't I?"

Daphne and Tracey cackled like maniacs, going off to get ready for work, but Pansy just grinned. "I'll help you make the eggs, _fiance_."

He took her hand. And smiled.


End file.
